Day 40 – Loving

gives the words-
the endless longing fever lines-


being loved
gives the wisdom
to not write them.


Breaking: Motherhood is 100% More Fulfilling Than Anything You’ll Ever Do

According to a recent survey of pretty much every Mom ever, squeezing a small human out of your nether regions is equally the most burdensome and the most rewarding thing any female can do. While the hardships of birth and child-raising are enough to guarantee pity and guilty faux-respect from bystanders for a lifetime, the enlightenment of the experience ensures that moms get to hold it over their heads for just as long.

“It’s almost as if God himself came down and blessed my uterus with my own special little angel, and while he was at it he granted me all this insight and wisdom that non-moms just can’t understand,” said one chronic procreator. “I’m pretty much a sacred vessel of the future.”

This mom-specific wisdom has been the subject of much controversy among those selfish non-moms who obviously don’t care that there will be no one around to take care of them when they’re old.

“I don’t believe becoming a mother inherently endows someone with extra knowledge or experience that couldn’t be gained elsewhere, such as in professions which work closely with other people’s children,” said one bitter old shrew, Alexa Green. “Fulfillment can be gained from caring for children regardless of biology, such as in the case of adoption, as well as numerous other childcare occupations.”

But Alexa’s just a teacher, so what the hell does she know? At age 39 with no children of her own, she’s probably bitter that no one wanted to procreate with her, or that she chose an occupation which left her too poor to support a family. Even though she states that her “childfree” life was a choice, we know all it’ll take is the right man to come along and change her mind.

As for those women who have yet to experience the sheer miracle that is motherhood, we’re assured that it’s everything anyone has ever dreamed of and more, and it’s definitely right for you, despite what you may believe. Even this CharNN reporter now understands that she was a fool to ever believe in a socially-evolved society wherein women could aspire to anything greater.

Year 2: Day 126 – Thirteen

Isn’t it disheartening to realize
that I’ll never know more than I did
when I was thirteen.
In fact I don’t know as much now
as the average teen does.
Isn’t it hard.

When I toss and turn at night,
still mulling over all the ridiculous circles
grownups make themselves run,
isn’t there all that boiling jealousy
that I’m not young, I’m not wild,
I’m not free.
And I don’t know half as much.

If I could get back the clarity of being thirteen,
don’t I think I would.
Don’t I think I’d have all the answers back,
the way I had it all figured out
when I was thirteen.

Year 2: Day 100 – Something Stronger Than Love

I have my teeth in this idea
that there is something stronger than love
but I don’t know what to call it
just yet.

It’s this kindredness that doesn’t need love,
doesn’t worry about the trappings of this world-
no breathless romance, no hand-holding highs,
no jealous fevers-
it’s a thing that is strong for being not love,
but which stands outside of love
and watches with a smile.

For it is not threatened by the work of the heart;
I think it’s a work of the mind,
but I’m not sure.

Because it’s not something you can think
into existence,
you sort of find it but never try to catch it,
it neither blooms nor fades with time
nor ever changes
but stands resolute in what it knows.

And it knows that love does not conquer all.
It knows that love is wonderful
but cannot erase the yearnings
of a restless mind
which still feels alone.

I have a feeling it’s not love
but understanding that we want,
but we don’t know it.
But I don’t know.

I think this thing that trumps love
is the thing you feel
when you hear your own heart
in someone else’s words.
I think it’s when you know you’re not crazy,
when you know you’re not alone.

That’s not love.
It’s much more important than that.
At least, that’s the way it feels.
But I don’t know.

Year 2: Day 65 – Things Worth Saying

When you’re young and you don’t recognize cliches,
everything you have to say is brand new
and so important because no one’s ever said it,
and you’re pointing out all these things
like teenage Seinfeld:
“How has no one noticed that coffee
just makes you more tired? Am I right?!”

And then you get to where I am now
and think you can tell people
what it’s like to be past all that
like young Buddah,
or some wise geezer in a twenty-something body:
“When you’re young and you don’t recognize cliches,
everything you have to say is brand new.”

But I’ve been listening around for the ones
who actually have something worth saying,
and I’m not sure but I think
they’re quiet for a reason.
I think it must be like
shrinking exponentially:
the more you want to say,
the shorter your sentences,
until you’re gone.

And blabbermouths will blubber
around your grave
and you’ve got the ultimate
reigning silence
and it doesn’t bother you.

Day 129 – The Fourteenth Time You Fall In A Hole

My sweet, sweet dummy-
I hope you don’t plan
on crying for long down there.
You can shake up your fists
all you want, my friend,
but the rope-burn’s still clenched within.

How many times
must we go through this,
the falling and getting back out?
I can’t do much more
than nudge closer the rope
that’s been hanging there all the time.

But take heart, my love-
the magic has come,
the wisdom to make things clear-
for the fourteenth time
you fall in a hole
is the last you ever will.

The fourteenth time
you fall in a hole
is the universal sign
for lesson learned,
for that’ll do,
for enough’s enough’s enough.

And when you’ve hit
that golden hour
the world will be open to you
and it will still be
full of holes
no matter what you do.

But you, my dear,
will have them beat,
for after the fourteenth time
you fall in a hole
you’ll remember
to take the rope with you.

Day 101 – Solomon’s Kids

When Dad answered right and struck it rich with God
we thought we’d be in for it easy.
We figured he’d be neat to have around in a pinch
and we’d all get a taste of the pie.

But Dad shriveled up the day it entered his brain,
all that smart stuff we couldn’t imagine,
and though we tried to get him to spread the wealth
he kept pointing us blindly ahead.

The staggering weight of his mind aged him quickly
as our thirst for a share in it grew,
’til one day our angel friend made us a deal
we just had to get Dad to accept:

we’d take his wrinkles, give him part of our youth
in return for some of his knowledge;
we’d take his burdens and let him be carefree
while our angel friend grinned from above.

But Dad wouldn’t do it, he steadfastly refused-
what he knew was beyond our guess-
and our father, that stubborn old fountain of wisdom
took every last ounce to his grave.